


The Colorado Snuggle Inn

by splinteredwinter



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angsty!Bucky, Competent!Steve, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, First Meetings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oh No There's Only One Bed Whatever Shall We Do, Sharing a Bed, all the feels, meet awkward, tags will get updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 04:40:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15477876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splinteredwinter/pseuds/splinteredwinter
Summary: Bucky Barnes is a high-achieving wunderkind at a NYC corporation who deals with his tragic past by working too hard and talking too little, that is, until he's forced to go on a business trip with the new Director of Clinical Quality Assurance, Steve Rogers. A series of mishaps means Bucky ends up spending more time with Steve than he wants, and while Steve has an eye for Bucky's good looks, he also has an eye for what's beneath.





	The Colorado Snuggle Inn

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [NachoDiablo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nachodiablo) and [writtenhistory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenhistory) for the wonderful beta-ing.
> 
> The tags will get updated as the story progresses, so be aware! The Rating will be updated as well, when the Eventual Smut tag comes into play.
> 
> In this first chapter a very minor, off-screen, barely mentioned oc passes away. I didn't tag for it but I did want to warn people in case it could be an issue for anyone.
> 
> This is only my second fic so, please, if I've missed a tag or anything else, feel free to give me a heads up in the comments so I can fix it.

Bucky slouched off the subway, down four blocks, and into the office. It was Wednesday, he was exhausted from Tuesday night’s drinking shenanigans with Clint and Natasha, and he felt it terribly unfair that he had to come into work at all when he was being forced to fly to Colorado that afternoon to do paperwork with no possibility of skiing. It was brutal and cruel and Bucky had feelings about it. Strong ones.

Darcy looked up when he slunk his way past the receptionist desk and gave him a distinctly unsympathetic look. “Here,” she said, shoving a Starbucks cup at him. “Drink that and get your ass into Fury’s office. There’s been a change to your travel plans.” 

Bucky sucked down the black coffee and began to show signs of life. He peered over the lid and said hopefully, “Change?”

Darcy snorted. “Don’t get your hopes up. You’re still going, it’s still cold, and you’re still not skiing, because it’s FEBRUARY and you’re WORKING.”

Bucky slumped again. “Thanks for the coffee, Darce. I owe you.” He stashed his bag in his office and took a few moments to breathe and sip his coffee. He’d intended to take a couple of days off from work this week. It was the anniversary of the car crash, and he always took time to visit his family’s graves before getting extremely drunk alone, but work had other plans this year. He sighed and left for Fury’s suite.

He knocked on the jamb of the open door and craned his head around. “You wanted me, Nick?”

Fury looked up and motioned to Bucky. “Come in, James. I want you to meet someone.”

As Bucky walked in, a tall man stood up. And up. And up. _Goddamn he’s tall_ , Bucky thought. Bucky was a tall man himself at 6’1”, but the man with Fury had a good two or three inches on him. Not only that, but he was stunning, with blond hair and bright blue eyes, and muscles that strained the gray shirt beneath his suit jacket. Bucky couldn’t stop himself from giving him the once-over, and then the twice-over, before remembering he was standing in front of his boss and the CEO of the company.

Fury coughed pointedly, then said, “James, this is Steve Rogers, our new Director of Clinical Quality Assurance. Steve, this is James Barnes, our Senior Fellow of Policy and Compliance.”

Steve broke into a smile that was ridiculously friendly. The man looked like a golden retriever. He thrust out a large hand and said, “It’s good to meet you, James!”

Bucky went to shake his hand and realized he was still holding his coffee. There was a brief hesitation as he realized he couldn’t put it into his left hand, and then set it onto Fury’s desk – a hesitation he hoped Steve didn’t notice, and then he reached and said, “I’m glad to meet you, Steve.” He reminded himself to smile at Steve and realized to his surprise that he already was. 

Steve smiled back, “I’m really looking forward to going to Colorado with you!” 

Bucky tilted his head back in surprise and looked at Nick. 

Fury motioned for everyone to sit down. As they settled, he straightened some papers and said, “I mentioned to Steve that you were going to Divide, Colorado to assist one of our clients with organizing and updating their policy-related documents to ensure they meet the requirements of the Affordable Care Act. They’ve been audited and had quite a few gaps, and they’ve requested help.”

Steve said, “Pardon me, but isn’t it unusual to send someone of James’s level to do a job like this?”

Nick answered, “Yes, but we pride ourselves on providing the same quality of service to all our customers regardless of size, and this particular institution had a bad run of luck with one of its officers. There was some fraud and embezzlement, and they’re just now getting back on their feet.” 

Bucky burst out, “It’s an utter waste of resources, Nick, and you know it. I’ve got a symposium coming up in five weeks, and the ACA Conference after that where we’re sponsors. This hospice is tiny. The town doesn’t even have 5,000 people. It’s not worth my time.”

Nick frowned and said, “We have a commitment to them, James, you know that. You and Steve are going.” Bucky opened his mouth to protest again, but how could he tell Nick the real reason he didn’t want to leave the city this week? He couldn’t. There was no way after all these years of staying silent about his family. When he noticed how Steve was frowning at him as well, he felt his shoulders drop. This was a terrible week, and now he’d made a bad impression on the new Director, too.

Nick waited a moment, and when Bucky was silent, he said, “Steve is going with you to get a feel for how we handle client visits, and to observe Mountain Home Care and Hospice’s approach to quality assurance given they’ve won several awards. Darcy’s emailed your ticket information and hotel details.” He paused a moment, and then added, “If there’s nothing else, I’ll see the two of you next week.” 

Steve smiled and said, “I’m looking forward to it.” He nodded at Bucky and added, “I’ll see you at the airport, James.”

Bucky stood up hastily when Steve did and nodded, trying not to watch too obviously when Steve walked out of Nick’s office. He was going to Colorado with a distractingly beautiful man who thought he was a selfish prick. This week just kept getting better and better.

“James.” Bucky jumped and turned around when he heard Nick’s voice.

Nick eyed him for a moment and then said, dryly, “You have a plane to catch?”

Bucky saluted weakly and got the hell out of Dodge.

Bucky shifted his weight and felt the tension in his spine grow. It made the small of his back feel like it was being twisted, and the noise of the airport all around him combined with the bright lights was beginning to give him a migraine. There was only one agent at the gate desk, and there were 5 people ahead of him. He looked at his boarding pass one more time and sighed.

He had been placed in the middle seat of a row and that wasn’t going to work for him. It wasn’t that he thought he was too special to have people on either side of him (he definitely wasn’t), or even that he was a large man and was going to be uncomfortable (although that was true). It was his left arm. When the accident had happened, he’d nearly lost his arm. Sometimes he wished he had lost it, because although he had it, and a decent amount of use of it, he also had pain. He’d learned to live with the constant dull throbbing of the chronic pain, but the acute pain that came from having his left arm jostled or hit when in tight spaces – that could be agonizing. 

He’d learned long ago to protect his left side from people and things. As he’d begun traveling more for work, he’d learned that the best place to sit on a plane was on the left side, in a window seat. That way he could at least pad his arm and cocoon it against the plane wall, or shift himself to control how exposed it was. Yelping or screaming in pain in public was nothing but embarrassing.

“James! Is there a problem with your ticket?” Bucky startled briefly and turned his head to find that bright smile directed at him again. He couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Steve, hi! No, I need to, ah…” Bucky fumbled for a moment, unwilling to talk about his arm and finding himself caught out. He blushed and finally managed to say, “I need to switch my seat, because… Because…” He trailed off and felt light-headed for a moment. _Why am I always either an asshole or an idiot around this man?_

Steve looked closely at him, but didn’t press him for details, much to Bucky’s relief. He only said, “I think we’re sitting together. Maybe my seat would work?” He held out his boarding pass to show Bucky his assigned seat. Bucky took a breath and pulled out his pass to compare. He said, ‘Yeah, yes, that would be great, if you don’t mind. That would be perfect.”

The flight to Colorado was three and a half hours long, and Bucky was exhausted. He leaned against the window with his left arm curled into his body and wrapped in a pillow the flight attendant had given him. Steve was in the middle seat looking uncomfortably squished, but when Bucky tried to apologize, he waved it off with a smile. “It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last. Are you doing ok?”

Bucky nodded and wanted to say thank you, but the desire to not talk about his left arm was stronger, so he stayed silent. Instead he curled a little tighter against the window, inured to the pain, and gradually fell asleep. The next thing he knew, there was a bump and the sound of brakes and he was waking up with his face nestled against someone’s chest. He was warm, and mostly comfortable, and someone’s arm was over him very lightly. “Mmph,” he said, and snuggled, his brain choosing to ignore anything but the warm and the comfortable parts of reality.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” someone said from above him. “We’re here. It’s time to get off the plane.”

“Ohhh, fuck me,” Bucky moaned. As he started to sit up, the rest of reality came crashing in. He straightened completely and stared into Steve’s blue eyes with complete horror. Steve smiled at him, and Bucky dropped his eyes to the drool spot on Steve’s dress shirt and then back up, eyes wide. 

“It’s ok, James. Don’t look so panicked. You just fell asleep,” Steve said, looking amused now. Bucky was ready to object, but Steve cut him off. “We can discuss over dinner whether or not you’ve committed a faux pas of some sort. Let’s get off the plane first.” 

Bucky sighed in agreement.

The Tex-Mex was good, the margaritas were better, and somehow the fact that Bucky had drooled on Steve’s shirt for three hours at 3700 feet didn’t come up during dinner. There were a couple of times where it seemed Steve was going to ask why Bucky hadn’t wanted to come to Colorado, but he stopped when he saw Bucky’s face, and Bucky noticed how he glanced at his arm, but overall he was good about respecting Bucky’s boundaries, which Bucky appreciated.

They got to the motel in a decent mood, which is when Bucky’s week returned to being difficult. 

‘I’m sorry, sirs; I only have a reservation for James Barnes. I don’t see a Steve Rogers here,” the clerk said.

Bucky felt the tension in his back start up again, and his fingers curled around the keys to the rental car hard enough to dig into his skin. “That shouldn’t be a problem, right?” he asked tightly. “It’s not like Divide is overridden with tourists, or big business, or huge conventions.” He heard Steve just behind him say warningly, “Bucky.”

“As it just so happens, _sir_ , the Divide Ice Sculpture Festival is going on and I only have one room available right now, the one reserved for James Barnes.” The clerk sounded snippy and put-out and just a little bit pleased with himself.

Bucky clenched his jaw, but before he could reply, Steve spoke up. “That’s fine, we’ll share the room.” 

The clerk smiled at Steve, smitten by that friendly smile, and before Bucky could object properly they were registered, had been given keys, and were parked in room 105. 

Bucky dumped his baggage by the door and stared mutely at the rough brown carpet, ancient television set, cracked ceiling, stained bathroom tile, and the real kicker of the whole ensemble, the single queen-size bed. He cast his head up to stare at a lone water stain. FML FML Fuck My Life FML, he told the ceiling silently.

Steve bumped into him a bit as he maneuvered his way into the room. “This isn’t so… oh.” Steve dropped his suitcase and scratched an ear. Finally he offered, “I can sleep on the floor, James. I wasn’t even supposed to…” 

Bucky raised a hand to shut Steve up. “Bucky,” he said.

“Bucky?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded solemnly. “My friends call me Bucky. We’re sharing a bed now. You can call me Bucky.”

“I really don’t mind sleepi…” 

Bucky raised the hand again and Steve shut up obediently. Bucky turned around and to face him and said only, “I drooled on you for three hours.” 

Steve’s lips twitched like he was holding back a smile. He picked up his suitcase and put it on the right side of the bed, the one that would allow Bucky’s left arm to be on the outside. Bucky brought his to the other side. He caught Steve’s eye and said very quietly, “Thanks.” Steve nodded and didn’t reply.

They took turns cleaning up in the bathroom and went to bed. There wasn’t a lot of extra room in the queen-size bed, but they managed. Steve fell asleep quickly, turning on his side away from Bucky and dropping off within a matter of minutes. Bucky stayed awake, lying on his back and listening to Steve’s quiet breathing.

The next morning was awkward, but not too terrible. Bucky woke up with his head pushing against Steve’s shoulder, but not actually on his shoulder, so that was good. Also, his raging boner was nowhere near Steve, so disaster averted in that arena as well. He rolled over to his side of the bed just as Steve began making sounds of waking up, and was able to hide there until things in the groin area calmed down.

They went to the hospice to meet with their clients and determine their schedule for the next few days. When they went to lunch, Steve said, “I should be done Friday afternoon, what about you?” 

Bucky nodded and said, “Same, which is good. I really, really want to be back in town on Saturday.” He looked down at his food and kept eating. 

Steve watched him for a bit, waiting for Bucky to continue, and finally said, “Well, then we’ll get you home for Saturday afternoon.” Bucky looked up and smiled at him, and Steve smiled back. Bucky suddenly felt a different sort of tension and he blushed slightly as he looked from Steve’s eyes to the sharp line of his jaw as it softened into the curve of his lips. His eyes dropped to Steve’s chest as he remembered the feel of firm muscle against his cheek, and his gaze flickered down along Steve’s thighs as he wondered what the rest of him felt like.

“Bucky. Bucky!” 

Bucky jumped. “What?” 

Steve eyed him and said, “Did you sleep badly last night? We can check and see if a room’s become available.”

The rush of disappointment that hit Bucky’s stomach surprised him. “No!” he said, too fast not to be a little odd. Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Bucky rushed on, “I mean, I wasn’t uncomfortable last night, were you? It’s up to you, of course, I just meant that I’m fine. You don’t have to leave on my account.”

“No, no, it was fine,” Steve said slowly. “I’ll stay.”

“Oh, good,” Bucky breathed out. Steve smiled.

It was 7pm when they left the client’s office and Steve threw an arm over Bucky’s right shoulder,. “There’s an Avalanche game on. How does beer, pizza, and paperwork sound?” 

Bucky groaned, and pulled out his laptop to raise it up to the sky in one hand. “It’s the circle of paperwork, And it moves us all,” he sang, dancing briefly around Steve before collapsing onto the hood of the rental car. “You’re driving.”

Steve shook his head and muttered fondly, “Dork.”

The beer was excellent, the pizza was acceptable, the Avalanche were marginal, and the paperwork was abysmal. Most of the evening was spent praising the beer and berating the paperwork, but it was productive, and Bucky loosened up as he got more comfortable with Steve. 

He learned that Steve was a native Brooklynite, and that he’d majored in Media Arts before switching over to Nursing and Social Work. He’d ended up in Hospice Care and eventually Quality Assurance and Program Creation, working to improve what was available to people who were in need of hospice care. 

Bucky started to lazily tidy up the evening’s detritus, and demanded, “But why? You draw so well, so why did you leave the Media Arts program?” He found the last document Steve had been editing and pointed out the artistic additions. “Exhibit A!” he said triumphantly.

Steve took the document and put back where it belonged. He smiled gently, “I switched because of my mom. It was just the two of us the whole time I was growing up. She was a nurse.” He paused to neaten the stack of paper and slide it into an accordion folder. “She died when I was 19. The summer I was a rising sophomore she was in hospice. The people were gentle, and kind. I decided I wanted to be like them.” 

Bucky absorbed this silently, putting the empty pizza boxes together, and climbing into the bed on his side. Eventually he sighed and said quietly, “Bad things happen to you and they make you want to be a better person. Bad things happen to me and I become more of an asshole.”

Steve slid under the covers on his side and turned out the light. He scooted a little closer to Bucky with his shoulders, offering silently. Sighing, he said, “Buck, you’re not an asshole. You’re still angry. I was angry, too. I was angry for years. Hell, I’m still angry; I’m just better at handling it now.”

Bucky thought about this for a while. “Yeah?” he asked.

Steve nodded in the dark. “Yeah,” he said.

Bucky scooted over a little and let his head roll so his temple was on Steve’s shoulder. “Ok.”

The next day, Friday, was busy, because it was their last day to get everything done for the client. They intended to fly out of Colorado Springs Saturday morning at 8am. The weather report was predicting a winter storm to begin rolling in around 7:30am, which meant their flight was likely to be the last one out of the city before the airport shut down.

Bucky was nervous all day. When he was focused on a particular task he was fine, but out of that he would begin thinking about the storm and the flight and worrying if he would get back to New York in time for the anniversary. 

The idea of not being there made him sick to his stomach, to the point that when he met Steve for lunch he couldn’t eat. He picked up a yogurt and a banana and then sat there watching Steve eat his barbecue chicken sandwich. 

“Bucky, you should eat something,” Steve chided him, looking worried. “Was it the pizza? Are you hungover?”

Bucky waved him off, and said, “I’m fine. Just not hungry today. How is your work coming along?”

Steve smiled and looked pleased. “It’s good. I’ve gotten a lot of good ideas from these guys, met a lot of good people. I made friends with one of the residents yesterday, an elderly lady named Marguerite. She’s a long-term resident of the place who recently entered their hospice care. She reminds me of my mom in a lot of ways. I’m going to visit her this afternoon.”

Bucky looked at how happy Steve was just because he’d met a dying old lady and felt jealous. He just wanted to get home to New York so he could feel shitty about a car wreck that had killed his parents and killed his sister and destroyed his arm and given him a life of chronic pain, and this physically amazing, well-adjusted, utter specimen of masculinity was sitting across from him completely oblivious. _Jesus fucking Christ._

He pushed back from the table with a clatter of metal on linoleum. “I’ve got a meeting,” he said roughly, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “I’ll see you tonight. “ He heard Steve call his name as he stalked away, but he didn’t bother to turn around. The man was perfect. He’d never be interested in someone like Bucky anyway. Bucky was damaged goods, and he had been since he was 16. Thank God he wouldn’t have to work directly with Steve once they got back, or take work trips with him. This was a one-off. An extremely painful, inconveniently timed, one-off.

Bucky managed to avoid Steve for the rest of the day. When he finished with everything at 8:30pm, he texted Steve to find out if he was ready to go. Steve replied quickly, saying that he was with Marguerite and that she wasn’t doing well. He was going to stay with her for the evening, and he’d be back at the motel shortly before they had to leave for Colorado Springs. Bucky could go ahead and take the rental car back.

Bucky scowled at his phone and kicked the wall when no one was looking. He’d been wanting to make up with Steve, and had secretly looked forward to sleeping in the same bed as Steve one more time, but it seemed he’d ruined that for himself.

There was no hockey game on, so Bucky spent the evening watching the Weather Channel and obsessing over the winter storm that was coming in. It was moving a little faster than expected, and was bigger than originally forecast, which made Bucky nervous. Finally around 2am he texted Steve, telling him they should leave earlier for Colorado Springs.

After about fifteen minutes his phone rang.

“Bucky? I can’t leave right now. Marguerite’s going to die any moment and I have to be here,” Steve whispered into the phone.

“What do you mean you have to be there? You don’t even know her!”

“She doesn’t have anyone, Bucky. Her entire family is gone and she’s alone. I’m not going to leave her by herself when she’s about to die!” Steve was still talking quietly, but he sounded upset, and a little angry.

Bucky took a deep breath and blinked back tears of anger. “You said we could get home for Saturday afternoon.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, and then Steve said quietly, “You go on ahead, Bucky. I’ll take a later flight. I can’t leave Marguerite to die alone, I’m sorry.” There was a pause where all that could be heard was the two of them breathing, and then Steve hung up.

Bucky dropped the phone onto the bed and sat there, staring at the TV while the blizzard began blanketing the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains.

The sound was muffled. Maybe it wasn’t a real sound. Maybe it was a dream sound. If he wrapped the covers around his head it mostly went away, but not all the way away, so that was no good. Eventually Bucky groaned and poked his head out of the mound of bedclothes. Someone was shouting his name outside the door along with pounding, but it was all deadened, like it had been wrapped in cotton.

Bucky rolled out of the bed and went to the door, stumbling over his shoes and barely managing to unhook the latch and shoot the deadbolt. He fell back when Steve poured into the room along with what seemed like a cubic foot of snow and a couple of sacks of food. Bucky yelped and stumbled over his shoes again, backwards this time, and fell onto the bed.

Steve stuck his head out the door and waved to someone before shutting the door with a bit of difficulty. He peeled off his entirely inadequate New York coat and stood there shivering, looking at Bucky.

Bucky looked back, and said, “Are you ok?”

Steve appeared to consider this question. He finally said, “No, I don’t think I am. Are you ok?”

Bucky shook his head and said, “Nope.”

Steve looked mournful and said “I’m supposed to take off all these wet clothes and take a hot bath and then get under a lot of blankets and drink hot chocolate until I warm all the way up.”

Bucky slid off the bed and took a step forward. He said, hesitantly, “I can help you with that. If you want me to.” 

Steve nodded, and Bucky said, “C’mon, then, big guy.” He walked Steve to the bathroom and started the water running to heat up before helping him out of his wet clothes, which were soaked to the skin. “Jesus, you’re freezing!” he said. Steve’s teeth had started to chatter so he couldn’t answer, but he managed to nod again. 

When Steve’s shirt came off, Bucky made a small sound in his throat at the sight of all that lovely pale skin, but when Steve started on his jeans, Bucky turned around to test the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot. He realized he was still in just a long-sleeved t-shirt and boxer briefs, and gave his cock a short but stern talking to about appropriate behavior.

Steve touched his shoulder and Bucky squeaked. He recovered and said, “I don’t think it’s too hot. Go ahead and get in.” Steve kept his hand on Bucky’s shoulder for balance as he slid into the tub, making little ah sounds as he adjusted to the heat. Eventually he was settled and Bucky said, “Is there hot chocolate in the groceries you brought?”

Steve said, “Yeah, and other stuff, enough for two days. Come sit with me after it’s made?”

Bucky took the opportunity to pull on some sweats. He made hot chocolate, using the coffee maker for hot water, and brought that and cinnamon and sugar Pop-Tarts into that bathroom. He set Steve’s onto a towel on the floor next to the tub and said, “Sorry, there’s no way to heat up the Pop-Tarts.” He perched himself on the toilet lid and focused on his snack.

After about fifteen minutes, Steve put down his hot chocolate and stared at his hands. He said, “I want to apologize again.”

Bucky interrupted, “Don’t.”

Steve turned his head to look at him. “Don’t?”

Bucky shrugged. “Don’t.” He ate the last of his Pop-Tart meditatively while Steve watched him, and then pulled his legs up so he could prop his chin on his knees, with his arms wrapped around them. 

Eventually he said, “You’re right that I’m still angry. But I want to handle it better. It, uh, it doesn’t matter if I’m lonely here or lonely there, because they’re dead, and I can be lonely anywhere. But Marguerite, she was being lonely right here, and she wasn’t dead yet, and that was something you could fix – the lonely part, at least. You could hold her hand when she needed her hand held. I get that.” 

Steve smiled. “Thank you, Bucky.”

Bucky blushed and hopped off the toilet seat. He grabbed a couple of towels for Steve and dropped them by the tub. “I’ll get the extra blankets and put them on the bed. That’s the next step, right? You’ll have to tell me how you got so wet.” He picked up the empty hot chocolate mugs and disappeared from the bathroom.

Steve emerged from the bathroom with hair all spiked up from being dried vigorously, and one completely inadequate towel wrapped around his waist. Bucky stared for a long moment before coming back to himself. The bed was piled with two extra blankets, an extra bedspread, and three extra pillows, as well as the throw from the armchair. 

Bucky pushed him towards his side of the bed. “Climb in. Do you want more hot chocolate?”

Steve dropped the towel and settled in. “I’m good, come to bed, I want to ask you something.”

Bucky slowly tidied up around the room, and eventually ended up at his side of the bed. He sat against the headboard, mirroring Steve, and murmured “Yeah?”

Steve said, “Buck. Who holds your hand when you need it held?”

Bucky’s throat went tight because he knew the answer to that but he didn’t want to say it. He dropped his head and shoved his hands under the covers so he could fist them without Steve seeing. Everything in his brain started spiraling and he heard Becca scream again and felt metal slice into his arm and there’s silence from his parents and…

“Bucky. Buck. Hey, c’mere.” Bucky felt a gentle tug on his shoulders, careful of his left one, and then he was enfolded in the bulk and warmth of Steve’s body, his head resting on his chest. “You’re ok, Bucky. You’re not alone.” 

A hand began stroking his hair and Bucky sighed, closing his eyes and listening to Steve’s heartbeat beneath his ear. “I’m gay, you know,” he told Steve. Laughter rumbled up and filled Steve’s chest.

“And I’m bi. Are either of those things a problem?” Steve said. He continued to pet Bucky, and Bucky’s touch-starved body soaked it up like the earth soaks in rain.

“Not for me,” Bucky yawned. Steve slid down into the bed and moved Bucky with him until they were both settled under the covers comfortably, Steve on his back and Bucky curled up against him.

“Not for me, either.” Steve tilted his head and kissed Bucky’s hair. Bucky went still for a moment, and then brought his left arm up from where it rested along his side. He stretched it out along Steve’s bare stomach, fingers whispering along his side before settling on Steve’s hip.

“Hold my hand and go to sleep,” he told Steve. 

So Steve did.


End file.
